


crowded empty

by sandyk



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Coma, Gen, barely dwelt on gun violence, locked in syndrome, my literal worst nightmare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:54:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28113459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandyk/pseuds/sandyk
Summary: Peter's in a coma for a very long time. Or maybe he isn't?
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	crowded empty

**Author's Note:**

> For the hurt comfort bingo spot imprisonment. Title from Kristin Hersh's Fox Point. Thanks A!!

Peter was in a coma. He assumed. He didn't know how long. For a long time, he couldn't tell how long, he couldn't sense anything. He was just awake sometimes in darkness and silence and felt nothingness. Like locked-in syndrome, he thought. He had so long to think. He reviewed basic facts, biology, chemistry, physics, math. Bottom up, from two plus two and so on. It passed time. 

He was pretty sure he was going to go insane. He ran out of science facts and historical facts and he tried to remember movies in his head and books. 

He pictured himself anywhere else. 

This was hell. He hoped, maybe he couldn't sense it but there was no way May and Tony wouldn't visit. They had visited. He was sure. He wondered how long he'd been like this. He couldn't hear his heartbeat. 

Maybe it was actual hell. It felt like torture. 

One day, he heard something. Slow sounds filtered in. Then he heard more. He heard his heart. He heard beeps. He heard scrapes on the floor. Day by day, he heard more and more. He could track time passing a little. The rhythm of time passing. There wasn't a lot of movement wherever he was. 

Then he could feel. Something in his stomach, feeding tube? Other tubes. Fabric on him. Cold air. He was cold. Then he could taste and smell. Lots of antiseptic and random scents and sometimes medical people - nurses? - came in and changed things and left. He wanted to say, I'm in here. I'm in here. He remembered some awful Metallica video, was it Metallica? Mr. Stark showed it to him, with an injured man somehow tapping out s o s or kill me? 

This could still be hell. 

He didn't know if he could see, he couldn't open his eyes. He tried to move. Small movements. Flex and relax. It didn't work. 

Until he did. He moved his fingers a little. He opened his eyes. 

He was in a white fuzzy place. There was still so much fuzz on the edge of his feelings. A light shined in his eyes. He started to see more clearly. He heard more clearly. 

A doctor spoke to him and Peter was able to respond. He was waking up. 

He was almost completely awake. He could move, they removed his feeding tube and slowly got him back on solid foods. Drinking water and orange juice. Someone brushed his teeth. He got to use a bed pan. 

When he finally saw himself in a mirror, he looked older but not old. He was so thin. They had shaved him, he had felt that, and cut his hair so he didn't look like Tom Hanks from Castaway. That was a weird reference, he thought. 

He was able to speak. So he asked how long? 

"Twenty years," the doctor said. "Twenty one next month."

When he was ready to be moved to a rehab facility, someone came to visit. She was lovely, she looked like Tony. She said she was Tony's daughter. "I'm Morgan Stark," she said. She smiled. "My dad set up all this." She had a very gentle smile. That was more Pepper. She said, "He passed away. And Mom. And your aunt, your friends. There was an invasion, and worse after. That's all dealt with now, we're all safe. But there's a lot fewer of us."

Peter nodded. "Thank you," he said. 

"Don't worry," she said. "You're provided for. Honestly, rehab and then your own place? Cheaper than caring for you in the coma." 

"Weird cost structure," he said. 

"This is a really nice hospital. And you're not on the national health care because, well, you were in a coma already."

"Okay," Peter said.

He asked the doctor if there was brain damage. He still felt fuzzy on the edges. 

Peter met people as he got better. Morgan came to visit. She brought him books, and something like a tablet he could use for access to the internet. So he caught up on aliens invading and everyone who died. May had died before that, though. A simple heart attack. 

Morgan arranged for him to have an apartment, it was a nice one. Everything was paid for. He was useless, though. He definitely had brain damage. He couldn't think like he used to. He wasn't really making new friends. He sat on his soft couch and watched all his old shows. He tried a few new ones. He barely watched the news but he tried to. 

Every day he was just useless. He couldn't use his brain well. He wasn't at anything like his full strength or even close. The last gasp of his powers was probably his healing getting him back to life. He used to help people. He used to make a difference. Now he was the one who needed help. 

He wasn't even clever anymore. He just watched Futurama over and over again. 

Peter was still in hell. Every day was awful. 

He went to sleep one night, and then he woke up and he was locked in again. He'd never gotten out of the coma, he realized. 

He never left hell, he'd just imagined a kind of escape. It hadn't even been a good escape. He was still imprisoned in his body. Everyone was probably still alive, but maybe they weren't. 

He couldn't move and it was dark. Except, he could feel. And hear. 

"Goddamn it, you practically overdosed him, come on, shithead," he heard. 

Something sent him deeper into darkness. 

He woke up again. He could hear and feel again. He tried to open his eyes. He opened his eyes and he had something over them. Something was taped over his eyes. He tried to pull at the things on his eyes. His arms caught on something. He wasn't strapped down. He had IVs in him. More than one. 

He reached across and felt up his opposite hand. He pulled out the one in his wrist. The one further up. He could hear a slow drip on the floor. Peter did his other arm, two more IVs pulled out. Someone could be watching, someone could be watching, someone could be watching, he thought. 

He ripped off the bandages on his eyes. He was in a room, a dark room. There was a not very sterile looking machine that had been hooked up to Peter and was leaking a pinkish fluid on the ground. Also not looking very sterile. Hopefully he could fight off the infection.

Which was thinking far ahead, Peter wasn't even out of the damn bed. He rolled off as best he could. He was also naked, no mask, so whomever had taken him knew what he looked like. 

Peter also thought this could be another coma fantasy. Or whatever that nightmare had been. 

Okay, do it, Peter thought. He crept towards the door and opened it slowly. Damn door opened on a blank wall. But no one was reacting to the door opening, so Peter pushed it open, ready to fight. 

There was one guy in a small well lit room, asleep in his chair, facing a monitor that showed Peter's room and vitals. Peter shoved the guy off his chair. The guy fell back with a hiss and then closed his eyes again. Peter watched like an idiot as the guy finally took another breath. He staggered and nearly fell against the desk. "Not recovering as quick," he said. 

Peter scrabbled at the desk, looking for a way to communicate with someone. It probably hadn't been twenty years. It definitely hadn't been twenty years. It had been two days, Peter saw. Passed out guy's phone wasn't even locked. What a fucking idiot. Peter called Mr. Stark. 

Tony answered immediately. "We're on our way, I'm literally in the air."

Peter sagged again. "Okay, okay, hanging out. Not in the best shape."

"But you've already gotten yourself out," Mr. Stark said. "Good work."

"Any clothes with you?"

"Nope," Mr. Stark said. "Maybe you can find some."

"I'll get on that," Peter said. 

Peter fell on his knees, which was painful. Irritating. He was still naked. The door opened, and it wasn't Tony. It was two more guys, who were both immediately getting into fighting stances. 

Peter jumped up to the ceiling and actually made it, he stuck there. He shuffled away from the entrance. Both guys were already staring at him, one guy reaching for his gun. Too many guns, Peter thought. Somebody needed to do something about it. 

Gun guy got off a shot but Peter easily skittered away. The other guy got out his gun and then they were both firing at him. His senses were coming back slowly and he was mostly dodging pretty well. Mostly. 

It took a solid minute for Mr. Stark and the Vision to arrive. They quickly dispatched the bad guys and then Peter jumped down badly to the ground. Iron Man grabbed him before he fell again. "Okay," Mr. Stark said. "We're going to get you some pants before we fly back."

"I love that idea," Peter said. He looked at his bleeding arms and legs and ribs. He'd only been winged, no bullets in his body. 

He described what happened to Mr. Stark and Vision and the effect of the drugs. Peter said, "I'm sure that right now I'm not caught in another coma fantasy. Absolutely not." 

Vision said, "It seems difficult for you to be truly sure."

"Wow, thanks," Peter said.

"Hey, Vision doesn't know for sure," Mr. Stark said. They were in the medbay and May was on her way. Mr. Stark said, "What did it feel like in the coma part?"

"Fuzzy. It was always fuzzy on the edges," Peter said.

"Do you feel that now?" 

Peter said, "Not really. No, it's fading fast. Everything's getting sharper."

"So you're not being tortured," Mr. Stark said. "Don't listen to Vision."

"It is most likely Mr. Stark is correct," Vision said. 

"Very reassuring," Peter said. "Those guys saw me without my mask. And they took my suit."

Mr. Stark said, "We found your suit. They didn't actually get your name, they just know what you look like. We destroyed all their machines and records. I've got Cho and her people working on breaking down the drugs they gave you so we can counteract them."

"And not use them, right?"

"No," Mr. Stark said. "Nope. That's not what we do. Not what Cho does, either. Don't worry."

"I know," Peter said. "I've had a day."

"Well, you were tortured," Mr. Stark said. "It wasn't fun." 

"But not anymore," Peter said. 

Mr. Stark nodded and sat next to him. He even hugged Peter. It all felt very real.


End file.
